


Protocol and Politics

by SilverFountains



Series: Royal Menage a Trois [7]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Brotherly Love, Celebrations, Gen, Jealousy, M/M, Politics, Protective Thorin, Tension, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-25
Updated: 2014-01-25
Packaged: 2018-01-09 23:47:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1152262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverFountains/pseuds/SilverFountains
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I hope I haven't done Tolkien's amazing works too much injustice with my own twists on it. Trying to capture some of the political intrigue and the dwarves' relations with the other races after the Siege on Erebor (my version of it). Based on Peter Jackson's movies, but with some significant changes. </p><p>The royal wedding will last for a full moon's cycle and the halls of Erebor are starting to fill with many guests, some more welcome than others. In the meantime Fili is beginning to lose it as he is starting to sink down a spiral of jealously and anger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Protocol and Politics

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [I See Fire](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/34777) by Ed Sheeran. 



> AU: On their return to Erebor, Thorin had summoned his people over from Ered Luin and they had started to resettle in the fortress within the Lonely Mountain. It was not long before the people of Laketown came to stake their claim on a share of the dwarven treasure as Thorin had promised them in return for their aid. Their claim might have been honoured had they not turned up at the Gates of Erebor with a great Elven army at their backs – albeit not of their choosing - led by his arch enemy Thranduil who sought to stake his own claim on the Durin treasure. Thorin’s fury at the audacity of his royal enemy and what he perceived as betrayal by the people of Laketown was so great that he ordered the Gate to Erebor to be sealed shut and sent a messenger to his second cousin Dain Ironfoot to demand his army to come to his aid. The tension reached braking point when Bilbo, who up to then had been treated as an honoured guest by the dwarves, made a grave error of judgement, thinking that the Arkenstone could be used as a means for negotiation, not realising its true meaning to the dwarves and Thorin in particular, but merely seeing it as a valuable jewel. It had nearly cost him his life and it was only at the pleading from his heirs that Thorin refrained from throwing Bilbo off the battlements, instead banishing him from his kingdom. As Dain’s army arrived and Thorin took over command there were initial clashes between the dwarves and elves and the matter was close to escalating into a full blown battle between the two races when the elf Tauriel was shot dead by a stray arrow as she’d tried to reach Kili. It was never confirmed whether the shot had come from the dwarven or elven side - although it was rumoured amongst the dwarves that Thranduil’s jealous son Legolas had been the one to pull the bowstring - and war was only avoided when the wizard Gandalf the Grey had interfered and returned both the Arkenstone and Orcrist to Thorin in return for a great stake in the Durin treasure to be split between Laketown, Thranduil and Bilbo on promises from all sides that this would settle the matter. Thorin had had no choice but to comply, but he never forgave any of them for the insult they had caused him and tensions between the dwarves and the other races remained high thereafter.

Dwarven wedding celebrations are not a short affair at the best of times, his people embracing the opportunity for a party with vigour. With their longevity, royal weddings occur so infrequently (his grandfather Thror must have been the last King to wed before his people, his sister the last royal but that was during their exile and the ceremony had been toned down considerably) that the official protocol had to be dug out from the archives. And although Thorin had had an inkling that it was going to be a lengthy affair, he wasn’t prepared for exactly how lengthy or how much it would test his patience and his pride.

The celebrations had started on the first day of dark moon and would last for a full cycle. The period of the early waxing moon had been spent with Kili stood at his side in the throne room, in his royal robes but not yet wearing the mithril crown, as they held audience with anyone within the Kingdom who wished to place their blessing on and bring gifts to the royal couple. The days were long as dwarf after dwarrowmaid kneeled before them and the pile of treasure left to them grew steadily. But the offering and blessings were genuine and came from Durin’s folk, and Thorin and his Consort were graciously grateful.

Then the dwarflords of the Clans had started to arrive. Now that the Arkenstone had been returned to the house of Durin and the clans had acknowledged Thorin’s claim to Kingship over their race, this was a significant political move. It was the first time since the attack on Erebor by Smaug that the clans had been reunited in the halls under the Mountain under one King and Thorin had spent days in council with them as Fili ran the daily affairs in his place with Balin and Kili at his side.

Then on the night of the full moon, all residents and guests under the Mountain are gathered in the Hall of the Ancestors, awaiting the official ceremony in which the representatives of the seven clans will acknowledge the royal binding and Kili’s claim as Consort to the King under the Mountain, with Balin representing the house of Durin, who after all is also a descendant of their great ancestor.

Kili is unusually quiet as he sits still in front of the fire in his old living quarters. Fili is carefully combing his fingers through his unruly hair in order to braid the intricate patterns required for the ceremony into his brother’s hair.

“Are you okay, brother?” Fili asks as he is pulling the strands into the required knots. “You seem awfully quiet.”

“I am just a little nervous,” Kili admits. “As you know I am not one for ceremony and to stand up in front of all these dwarves and the lords of the clans… It’s just a little unnerving. I think I’d rather face an orc pack than this.”

Fili squeezes his brother’s shoulder gently. “You’ll be fine. It will be over before you know it and then everyone will accept that you are the King’s Consort.” As he utters the words he feels a sting in his side and sighs, more pronounced than he’d intended.

Kili tries to look up at him, but the strong pull on his hair doesn’t allow him to strain his neck far enough. “Are you okay, Fee? You seem upset.”

Fili sighs again, “I guess I’ll just miss you.”

“What do you mean?” Kili asks confused. “I’m not going anywhere!”

“I know, but now you are now officially moving into his chambers. And after tonight even the privilege of doing your braids will be His.” It is custom that the honour of braiding a dwarf’s hair is handed over to the spouse after the wedding. “Things just won’t be the same.” He’s grateful that Kili cannot see that he’s trying to bite back tears.

“I am sure Thorin won’t mind you braiding my hair, brother,” Kili tries to reassure his sibling. But he has to acknowledge that he too feels a sense of loss, like a separation from the one he’s spent his entire life with.

***

The ceremony was not as bad as Kili had anticipated, with Thorin at his side to guide him through the necessary decorum. Everyone tells him it was beautiful. His mother is in pieces as she hugs and kisses him over and over again as if he’s just returned from the dead, admiring the circlet that now decorates him as the royal Consort. And once the dwarflords have offered the newlyweds their congratulations, the dwarves of Thorin’s company, the ones they have both spent so many months on the road with, push their way through the crowd to congratulate them.

All but one…

As soon as he finds a space to slip through, Kili goes in search of his brother. He eventually finds him sat amongst a group of younger dwarves who Kili barely knows and who seem keen on getting the crown prince drunk as they are shoving mugs of ale in his direction.

“Fee?”

“Brother!” Fili cries out a little too loud. “Congratulations on bedding the King!” The other dwarves laugh.

Kili blushes in confusion. This is his wedding day and the comment is hardly appropriate. His brother is his closest friend and he loves him more than anything in the world. Why would he seek to embarrass him? Why wasn’t he amongst their friends when they bestowed their blessings on him and Thorin?

Fili must have seen the hurt look on his face as he seems to regret his words. “I’m sorry, brother,” he says as he stands up, leaving his drinking buddies behind. He hugs Kili hard. “I am happy for you.” And then he takes Kili’s hand and they walk back together towards the main gathering and all is quickly forgotten as they get swept into the post-nuptial celebrations that continue deep into the night.

***

At some point they got separated and when Thorin returns to his chambers, he finds Kili fast asleep on top of their bed, dressed still in his undergarments. Thorin considers whether to undress him, but doesn’t wish to wake his beloved and gently pulls the sheets from under him to cover his prince. It’s such a lovely sight, his dark eyelashes gently resting against his cheeks, his mouth a little open, his still braided hair like a natural crown around his head. Thorin bends down and presses a light kiss on his cheek, “sleep well, _limuluh_.” It doesn’t matter that this is their wedding night and in fact the first night since they first confessed their love for each other they will not be making love. Thorin is exhausted too and isn’t even sure he would manage it had Kili been awake. They have already consummated their binding and there will be plenty more pleasurable nights to enjoy each other in the many years to come.

So he pulls off his ceremonial garments, keeping just his breeches and his undershirt and quietly leaves the bedchamber. Then he seats himself in front of the fire in the living quarters. Thorin’s rooms are the only ones laid out like this in the mountain fortress as it stands. The other rooms are much smaller and generally comprise of a large room that serves both as a living and sleeping space with just a separate washroom. It’s much easier to heat that way, since they are so deep inside the mountain here. Most of the kingdom remains uninhabited still, despite his people working on the restoration day and night. It will take many years and many more dwarrow to restore Erebor to its original splendour; with so few of them here still the task remains enormous. But it keeps his subjects busy as they like to be, working at the rock and stone that are like kin to them. His kind are not one to sit idle for long. 

Thorin lights his pipe and just enjoys sitting down for a while. They are half way into the festivities now and it is starting to grate on him as much as Kili. He’s able to hide it much better, used to having to endure endless political debates and council meetings. But underneath his professional mask he just as much wishes to tell them all to _khudur gelah_ out of his home.

The next and final part of the moon cycle and thus the final element of the celebrations will be by far the worst, as protocol states that royalty and those of sufficient standing of allied races are to be invited to the royal wedding. And whether or not Thorin considers mankind or elvenkind friend or foe is by the by really. Technically they are allied as per their ancient agreements and it would be unacceptable not to extend such invitations since they had officially settled their disagreements after the Siege, regardless of the continued brooding by the Mountain King. Thorin had tried his best to get out of it, especially loathing the thought of the leech Thranduil striding through his halls, his greedy eyes peering where they should not. He has no real quarrels with the elflord Elrond or the human lords, but after the Siege he’s suspicious of any non-dwarrow and does not relish the thought of any of them coming anywhere near the Durin gold. In the end he had gotten so irate over the matter that he had growled at Balin and Dori to just do what had to be done but not to bother him with it anymore. He would be a graceful host as was expected of him, but don’t expect him to be happy about it.

He rubs a hand over his tired face and thinks to retire very shortly himself. But just as he’s about to snuff his pipe and get up, he jumps and nearly drops his pipe and his hand is already on his swords’ hilt, which rests against his chair, as three loud bangs on the door have put his every nerve on edge. It’s only when he hears his heir cry out “Kili” that his tensed muscles unclench. He sheaths his sword again and walks to the door, opening it only a little.

“Fili, why are you here?”

“Wanna see Kili,” his nephew slurs as he leans himself heavy against the doorpost.

“Kili is asleep. As you should be. Go to bed, Fili, and you can see him in the morning.” He closes the door again hoping that his heir will do just that. His eyes grow dark with annoyance as the banging repeats itself, as does the crying of his love’s name.

“Damn it, Fili,” Thorin hisses as he yanks the door back open. “I told you, Kili is asleep. You will now go to bed and you will not return here until you have sobered up. Do not push me.”

Fili gives him a glare that is almost hateful, but Thorin blames it on the strong ale of which he’s clearly had far too much. The King again closes the door in his nephew’s face and walks back towards his chair, but he doesn’t sit down. For a few minutes he stands there, expecting Fili to start banging against his door again, ready to grab him by the scruff of the neck. But when he doesn’t and all remains quiet, Thorin is starting to worry a little. It is not like Fili to behave like this. He’s noticed more and more odd behaviour from his sister-son since the celebrations began. They have all been tired and on edge because none of them are used to such a hype of activity around them. But there is something else.

He sighs as he decides that perhaps he cannot retire to his bed just yet. He quickly checks in on Kili, making sure he hasn’t been awoken by the commotion, but his beloved is pretty much passed out and snoring softly. Then Thorin pulls on his fur overcoat and leaves his chambers.

***

He gently taps the door to Fili’s chambers and when he gets no response he pushes it open. He feels a stab in his chest when he finds the blonde prince sobbing on the bed, curled into a ball. Again this is odd behaviour. Kili is generous with his tears, but Fili is able to control his emotions much better, having been schooled from a young age as Thorin’s heir. Thorin cannot recall the last time he’s seen Fili cry, he must have been a dwarfling still.

He walks over to the bed and starts to stroke his nephew’s back. “What is wrong, Fili. Please talk to me.”

“You should send me away,” Fili stutters through his tears.

Thorin blinks in surprise at the unexpected and ridiculous statement. “Why would you say that? Why ever would I send you away?”

“Just do it!” There is now an undertone of anger in his voice as he shrugs the hand off his back and turns away from Thorin. “Send me on a mission, a quest, to negotiate with one of the dwarflords, I don’t care. Just have me away from here. Please.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Fili. I need you here right now, at my side. You have done so well taking care of matters in my absence. I need you to continue your studies of our laws. I am not sending you away. What has brought this on?”

Fili is seething. He hates himself for creating this situation in the first place. He hates Thorin for causing him such pain, even though the King has no idea that he is. He hates him for having what he now wants to be his. And even more for not allowing him any relief from it. He bites his cheek as he decides he will not speak to his uncle any more tonight. 

Thorin makes several more attempts, but when it becomes clear that Fili clearly has inherited some of the Durin stubbornness and is not going to speak, he resigns and gives his nephew a gentle kiss on his head. “Please get some sleep, _nidoyuh_. And if you don’t want to talk to me, then please talk to Kili.” Quickly followed by a stern, “in the morning.” And at that he leaves the prince’s bedchamber and returns to his own which he now shares with his One.

Fili is starting to sob softly again. That is the very last dwarf he can talk to…                                  

***

Although Thorin is spitting at the sight of the great wizard, who he feels drew sides with his enemies the last time they came face to face and had pushed him into an uncompromiseable position, Kili, Fili and the rest of the company seem overjoyed.

“My sincerest congratulations, King Thorin Oakenshield,” the wizard bows his head as he stands before the throne of the Mountain King.  Then he hands Kili a small box in which lies a large uncut ruby. “It is carries an ancient enchantment of protection,” Gandalf explains. What he doesn’t say is that the enchantment is one to guard the mind against corruption, in hope to protect the young prince against the sickness of the gold.

 _“Demup telek menu,"_ Thorin thanks the wizard, who is subsequently pounced upon by Ori and Nori as he leaves the throne room, asking him for tales about what happened since they last met and has he seen Bilbo? Thorin gnashes his teeth at hearing the name and knows these are going to be a long few days testing his manners to the extreme.

The next few days carry on in much the same manner. In the morning new guests arrive from across Middle Earth. The invitations were sent with the fastest couriers nearly three moons ago now when Thorin first told Balin and Dis about his binding to Kili and got them to initiate the wedding arrangements. Because of the short time lapse only those within a moon cycle’s distance will be able to attend but unfortunately those are numerous still since these are not held up by lack of transport, incarceration or orc hunts as Thorin and his company once were. Once the necessary niceties are exchanged, the guests are taken to their quarters and daily duties resume almost as normal, Thorin and Fili taking council, continuing their political discussions with the dwarflords of the clans, whilst Kili gathers his archers and puts them through their daily drills. As soon as the sun starts to set, however, all gather in the Great Hall as food and wine and ale and mead are supplied in great quantities and the dwarves do their best to drink their guests under the table, which isn’t that much of a challenge really.

Elrond and his entourage are the first of the elves to arrive. Thorin holds a certain amount of respect for the elvenlord who has treated him with nothing but the respect he is due and had aided him in deciphering the moon runes that enabled them to access Erebor. He even greets the Lord of Rivendell with a heavily accented “ _Coanya ná coalya. Hantanyel an tulielya.”_ drawing surprised but appreciative looks from around the hall, especially from Gandalf.

As the elves join the celebrations in the evening, their dwarven hosts are pleasantly surprised at the sight of their haughty guests joining in the drinking and the singing. The party reaches a particular high when Thorin invites Elrond to sing and his voice rings clear through the cavernous space of the perfectly quiet hall as he sings the first four lines of the dwarven song of fire, which tells of the coming of Smaug to Erebor.

_Oh, misty eye of the mountain below_

_Keep careful watch of my brothers' soul_

_And should the sky be filled with fire and smoke_

_Keep watching over Durin's sons_

 

Thorin joins the song with his golden harp and his own voice as they sing of the burning flames on the mountain and the fight for Erebor. And as they reach the chorus all the dwarves and even Gandalf join in, some taking up instruments of their own, filling the halls with their deep and contemplative voices, the older generation remembering the origins of the song clearly, the younger having learnt the words and their meaning from their elders. Elrond has honoured them greatly having learnt their song and Thorin is pleased.

That night he and Kili make love until the early hours of the morning, both on a high from the evening’s festivities, and Thorin wakes up in a very good mood, his lover’s leg wrapped over his own, feeling his naked body pressed close to him.

However, that mood doesn’t last long when a knock on the door from Balin announces the imminent arrival of Thranduil. It is the penultimate day before the end of the moon cycle and Thorin had secretly hoped that the elfking would not come. He gently pushes Kili off him, shaking him awake softly, and starts to prepare himself to face his adversary.

It is indeed Thorin this morning who is braiding Kili’s hair and it feels strange to the both of them. Thorin is struggling to remember the required patterns and tugs at Kili’s hair a little too hard, but eventually he manages to get it done.

“He’d better not have brought his brat,” Kili spits as they discuss their latest guest. Thorin shares the thought as he fears his Consort might throw himself at the elven prince, holding him accountable for Tauriel’s death. He hopes that Thranduil for once in his life has made a sensible decision.

Of course he has not and Kili bristles when the stark blue eyes of the elfling come into sight. Thorin places a firm hand on his upper arm and gives him a warning look. He too would love to throttle the life out of these two royals, but he is not about to risk another war between their people over the broken hearts of princes, even if it’s his Kili.  

Thranduil strides along the hall up to Thorin’s throne, his prince-son close behind him followed by their entourage of personal guards and advisors. _“Gîl síla erin lû e-govaded vín,_ King Thorin.” He bows deeply and his entourage follow suit.  “Such a joyous occasion,”he continues, his words dripping in honey, “my congratulations to you Consort Kili of Durin.”

His steel blue eyes bore deep into Kili’s and Thorin is actually drawing scratch marks into the arms of his throne as he is trying to stop himself from slapping this elf for letting his eyes linger a little too long over his One. Kili, however, holds his own. “ _Le fael,”_ he bows his head slightly, without taking his eyes of the Elfking. Balin had been wise to school the sons of Durin in the basic phrases of the elvish languages.

The two princes exchange looks full of hate and bloodlust, but nod to each other in greeting as they are expected to and the hall breathes a visible sigh of relief that they have managed to get this far without killing each other.

Dwalin makes sure to keep Kili busy in the armoury for the next two days, whilst Thorin speaks with Thranduil about matters of trade and alliance. They remain civil, although the tension in the room is tangible. Thranduil slithers far too close into Thorin’s personal space, almost erotically so, whilst his wretched son continues to make whispered comments to their advisors which Thorin does not understand and which is making his blood boil. He is relieved when they reach the end of the second and final day of their visit without having burst a blood vessel and proud of himself for not having lost his temper and run an axe through the pair of them.

***

They all make their way to the battlements for the great firework display that Gandalf has promised them. The night is dark, with the moon hiding in the shadows, but the glistening of the gigantic golden dragon in front of the gates can be seen in the light of the torches. Its sight had frightened Kili, Fili, Oin and Bofur to death when they had arrived at Erebor once Kili’s leg had healed. The terrifying image of Smaug forever sealed in the solid gold that Thorin and his company had poured over him. The long black spears driven deep into the dragon’s heart still protruding from its precious cast. It was a symbol of wealth and power like no other.

Kili feels Thorin’s strong arms wrap around him as the display lights up the skies.

“You have done me proud,” Thorin whispers to him. And Kili sighs into the feeling of his lover’s warmth.

Fili gives them just the briefest sideways glance, before tearing his eyes away and concentrating intensely on the fireworks in front of him. But he cannot stop the feelings of jealousy and injustice that are stabbing at his heart.

  
[Consort Kili of Durin](http://illyluna.deviantart.com/art/Consort-Kili-of-Durin-430807610) by [Illyluna](http://illyluna.deviantart.com/) on [deviantART](http://www.deviantart.com)

**Author's Note:**

> Khuzdul  
> khudur gelah = an explicit in the spirit of fuck off  
> nidoyuh = my boy  
> demup telek menu = honour acts through you. A form of thanks. 
> 
> Quenya  
> Coanya ná coalya. Hantanyel an tulielya = My home is your home. Thank you for coming. 
> 
> Sindarin  
> Gîl síla erin lû e-govaded vín= A star shines over the time of our meeting. An honourable greeting.  
> Le fael = You are generous. A form of thanks.


End file.
